Harmonia
by NorthernMagic
Summary: Harmonia Potter finds herself in 1948 after an incident in the Forest of Dean. Forced to navigate a world in which three of the most powerful wizards of the 20th century are still living, she must pick her battles and allies carefully as mysteries of the past are revealed. One wrong move and the future of the wizarding world could be at stake. FemHarry/TMR


Chapter One: The Incident

Plagued by the nightmare that was the last several weeks, Harry was unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned desperately trying to escape the haunting visions of her past mistakes, but with each movement her thoughts grew darker. Unwanted memories morphed into fear-filled premonitions of a future yet to come. Images of death and decay circulated in her mind making her feel physically ill. _I'm okay. It will all pass in a second_ , she told herself as she clenched her eyes tighter trying to ignore the overwhelming impulse to empty her guts out onto the floor.

Harry clung to her blankets, her fists clenched so tight that her nails started digging into her palms. She could feel the tired ache in her bones and a haziness washing over her mind. She knew it was time for her to go to sleep, but she was too afraid of what she'd see in the darkness of her own mind.

Eventually the pull of sleep became too strong to resist and Harry found herself suddenly drifting off into unconsciousness against her will. Her mind flooded with images of the people she loved. Their doppelgangers smiled brightly and laughed without a care in the world, their expressions mimicking the memories she had of them during some of the happiest moments of their lives. _It's nice_ , she thought too overcome with emotions to describe it in any other way.

She hoped and prayed that the moment would last forever, that she wouldn't mess everything up again. It didn't matter if it all just turned out to be an illusion. She needed this to be real. She needed to remember what it felt like to be at peace and not guilty every time she felt a semblance of happiness.

 _It has to be real_ , she thought as she frantically jerked herself forward. With her arm outstretched she ran with all her might towards the people she loved. If she could just reach them, everything would be okay...or so she thought.

When she finally got within a few meters, the crowd suddenly turned their heads towards her. Their sparkling eyes becoming lifeless and dull while the smiles that so kindly graced their faces were now painfully plastered on almost as if they belonged to wooden puppets. Shocked, Harry immediately came to an abrupt stop.

As she stood there debating whether or not she should approach them, the creatures started motioning her to come forward. It was at that moment that Harry made the decision to get as far away as she could from them. After turning her body to the opposite direction to flee, beams of green and red light suddenly shot through the air while screams of agony assaulted her ears.

 _War_ , the word echoed in her mind and without even a second thought she whipped her head behind her searching for the source of the chaos. All around her the familiar faces of those she loved were being brutalized and killed, their life having returned to their eyes only to be stripped away by phantom soldiers.

One by one they looked to her as they were being murdered, eyes filled with pain and betrayal as if it was all her doing. When the last person had fallen onto the ground, lifeless and limp, they stared at her with their dead eyes chanting, "It's all your fault" in voices as lifeless as their bodies.

Every word of their accusation seeped into her blood like poisonous venom, her heart pounding so fiercely that she feared it would burst out of her chest. Their grisly deaths and lifeless faces were etched into her very soul. It didn't matter that it was only a dream because the words were left swirling in her head even as the visions started to fade away into the darkness of her mind.

She was afraid because she knew that the apparitions were right, she would have blood on her hands. People would die because of her; people _had already_ died because of her: her parents, Sirius, Cedric. Her misfortune had always left a trail of bodies. She was a curse who brought trouble wherever she went since the day she was born.

As her thoughts started to turn against herself, her heart started to beat like a frantic drum. She felt like a caged animal with nowhere to go. Terrified, she bolted up out of her bed. "They'll die," she whispered hysterically trying to push her fears of failure aside. But even as she managed to slow her breaths and calm her nerves the bitter aftertaste of guilt was still left inside of her.

Harry sat on the bed waiting for the familiar feeling of numbness to take over her, but it never came. Her eyes wandered around the room, replaying all the happier memories she spent in the tent, but it only made her feel angrier at how things had changed. She couldn't understand why it had to be her, why she had to be the person who would lose everything.

Eventually the silence became too unbearable. She didn't want to be left to her thoughts anymore, so she picked herself up off of the bed and started walking. Subconsciously, she held her breath, silently fearing that she would find herself suddenly immersed into another nightmare. But with each step forward, the line between reality and dream became easier to distinguish and she knew now that she was overreacting. Nothing had changed since she had gone inside to rest. Hermione was still safe. They were not in any immediate danger. There was no reason to panic, at least not yet.

Without saying any words, she approached Hermione at the entryway and tapped her on the shoulder. With barely a nod in acknowledgement, her friend swiftly retreated to her cot, leaving Harry alone to stand in the spot where she had stood only moments before.

Harry waited in silence for something to happen. The cold winter wind starting to sting the skin on her face, but she couldn't seem to be bothered. She welcomed its icy touch, secretly hoping that it would numb the stabbing pain she had felt building up inside of her since Ron's departure. But relief never came and she sat in front of her tent dejected, staring blankly into the dark void that laid before her.

The longer her eyes lingered, the more the darkness seemed to grow. Memories she had been trying so desperately to repress, rushed back to her in a flood of emotions. If she had known the fresh air would've made her condition worsen, she would have never came outside in the first place.

Every patter on the forest floor and crack of a branch nearly caused Harry to jump and draw her wand. She felt like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered; she felt powerless. Her senses had been dulled by the lack of sleep and she couldn't tell the difference between threat and a twig. Deep down, she knew that she was in no state to defend either herself or Hermione, but there was no choice. So much had changed in the last few months.

Dumbledore's death was like opening up Pandora's Box. Misery and misfortune was suddenly around every corner as happiness quickly became a memory of the past. Every day a new event would break her a little more. She was hurt from having to flee the only place she considered home; She was hurt by learning the dark truth about her hero and how he raised her to be sacrificed; And she was hurt from losing her first and closest friend. With only one person left beside her, she had to at least pretend to be strong. As much as she hoped, no amount of time was ever going to completely heal the wound their secrets and lies had caused on her heart, she would always be left with a scar.

No matter how hard she tried, Harry couldn't focus. With all the anger and hurt bubbling up inside of her, it was starting to become too much for her to cope with. The harsh truth of her situation was constantly crashing down on her and she felt a tremendous amount of pressure.

While her vision may no longer be obscured by the rose-colored glasses of childhood, she couldn't simply pretend that everything was alright anymore. She saw day in and day out how tragic and cruel the world really was. As she was prepared to sacrifice herself for the rest of the world, her best friend couldn't even be bothered to stand next to her.

She felt like a tool, a means to an end that could be used and discarded because she had no one left in the world that cared for her. Ron had left her to return to his family, he didn't even think about how she had always considered him her brother.

That day, a part of her died and her childhood had officially ended. Without him, they were no longer the Golden Trio, no longer family and Harry's life had started to spiral out of control.

After he left, Harry and Hermione could barely stand to look at one another. It was almost as if they were afraid that if they looked up, they would suddenly see the other person had abandoned them.

Hermione wouldn't admit it to her face, but Harry knew that there was a part of her that blamed her for pushing Ron away. She had always known how much Ron had meant to Hermione. The signs of their blossoming romance had been there for months as it was impossible to ignore. But Harry couldn't think rationally, not when Ron had let it slip that the two of them had been talking behind her back about how disappointed they were with her and how little she knew about what was going on. In anger, she chose to drive him away even when she knew Hermione might've been able to convince him to stay if given the opportunity, but she was scared and she knew that they were right. She didn't know anything.

Contrary to appearances, she wasn't born with all the answers like everyone expected, she was only seventeen and the one person who could've taught her had largely kept her in the shadows. There were no straight answers or directions on what exactly to do. All she was left with in the end were riddles.

Her mentor, Dumbledore, had instead opted to watch from the sidelines whilst she found herself in dangerous situations year after year. While he may have looked like a kind grandfatherly figure on the outside, as time went by Harry recognized him less and less. Reading Rita Skeeter's book, ensured that.

She had learned more about the man summed up into a few short pages than all her years she had spent at Hogwarts and they were considered to be close. She felt betrayed. He had purposely kept secrets from her to manipulate her for the so-called "greater good," and yet, she couldn't completely give up trusting him.

Even after they learnt about his past, Harry and Hermione were still not able to understand him. No matter what they did, they couldn't seem to reveal what the cryptic old man wanted them to do. Until one day, they had thought they had found the answer.

They had believed wholeheartedly that they would find some sort of sign in Godric's Hollow that would point them in the right direction, but going back there proved to be a near deadly mistake. Instead of finding answers, they had found themselves in a trap that almost ended in a premature meeting with Voldemort. And from that day forward, they knew it was a mistake to ever think that they could understand Dumbledore, a mistake that would cost them their lives if they tried it again.

The near-death experience had added a tremendous amount of stress onto Harry. She knew it was only a matter of time before her final confrontation with Voldemort, one of them had to die. She was scared. Scared to die, scared to fail, scared to live with the fallout of a war because underneath all the bravado, she still felt like the kid who had never had the chance to live for herself.

She was always forced to become whatever everyone else wanted her to be. Light, dark, it didn't matter. She was just a pawn in their struggle for power and her feelings weren't worth even a knut.

Suddenly, Harry was drawn out of her thoughts. A light had flashed across the corner of her right eye, causing her senses to heighten with adrenaline.

Unsure if danger approached, she clenched her wand in her fist ready for an ambush. But danger never came.

A silvery wisp of light danced and weaved itself around the trees in front of her, growing bigger and bigger until it had taken the form of a familiar shape.

 _It couldn't be_ , Harry thought in disbelief. Her eyes frantically following the shimmering light. But a moment later, Harry's suspicions were confirmed. The light had gracefully transformed into a gleaming doe and for the first time in several days, she had felt hope.

For a moment, her sparkling eyes went dark and she doubted the ethereal creature's intentions. She couldn't help, but wonder if the patronus was being used as a ploy to lure her away. She knew that she should tell Hermione, but something inside of her was urging her to quickly follow the creature.

Impatiently the doe turned her head away from Harry and nodded, looking back only once before it started to sprint away. The message was clear though, Harry was to follow. There was something that she needed to be shown and her opportunity to find answers was now.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry started to chase the doe. She ran as fast as her feet allowed her to go, refusing to give into the aching muscles that wanted her to slow down. She could feel that this event was important, she just hoped that it would lead her to the miracle that she so desperately needed.

Eventually the doe came to a stop and its light had started to fade away into the dark, moonless night. She was only a few miles away from her campsite, but it was too far for her to get any help if things went south.

Panic started to wash over her as she looked around the clearing that she had found herself in. There was nothing there for her to find and she feared that she had fallen into a trap again.

Disappointed, she quickly muttered " _Lumos_ " and waited with bated breath for something to happen. Her eyes scanned the area as light radiated out of her wand.

Suddenly, she was startled by the realization that she was only two feet away from dangerously standing on top of a lake that had been frozen over. Her shocked eyes raked over the ice and she noticed something glinting unnaturally beneath it.

Carefully, she walked closer to the water's edge in the hope to get a better look. Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the submerged object in front of her. She was right to have trusted that doe. It had led her to Godric Gryffindor's sword.

In her excitement, Harry quickly raised her wand and whispered " _Accio Sword_ ," but the object failed to move even a centimeter. Disappointed, she internally groaned, but deep down she understood that retrieving the sword was never going to be that easy. She had hoped that this wasn't going to be the case when she first set eyes on the sword in the water, but fate had other plans.

Luckily, Harry knew what to do. The last time the sword had appeared before her was in her second year during her battle with the basilisk. She had pulled it from the sorting hat when she was bravely trying to save Ginny. After her rescue, Dumbledore had mentioned in passing that "only a true Gryffindor could have pulled it out of the hat," meaning simply accio-ing the sword over was never going to work. The sword had to know the lengths she would go to save someone other than herself, she had to risk herself for the greater good in order to wield it and she knew exactly what it was asking her to do.

Carefully, Harry started to remove her clothing whilst she muttering a quiet curse every now and again about how "bloody cold" it was. She stripped herself of her clothes layer by layer until she was left in only her underwear and Slytherin's locket.

Bitterly, she mumbled in the direction of the sword, "Is this bloody brave enough for you." She found that talking to no one in particular helped to distract herself from thoughts of the icy plunge she was about to take and how the cold air had already started to burn her skin.

With a long sigh, she placed all her belongings in a neat pile so she could make a quick escape once she nabbed the sword. She took the wand that Hermione had lent to her and casted " _Diffindo_ " towards the ice.

The ice started to crack where she had pointed her wand. The crunching noise turned into a resounding boom as a newly formed hole graced the surface of the frozen lake. It was large enough for her to get in and out.

As she started to walk closer, she noticed that even though the lake was shallow she would need to go all the way to the bottom to grab the sword. _Luckily_ , she thought wryly, _the sword couldn't possibly refuse me after this_.

Resigning herself to her fate, she set Hermione's wand on top of her pile and prepared herself to jump. The last thought she had before she jumped was that she better not die from this.

As she splashed into the water, the icy water immediately disoriented her. It was like a brain freeze to her entire body. She struggled to focus, but she quickly remembered that her time was limited and her fingers found the hilt of the sword.

Just as she started to pull it upwards, she felt something constricting her neck. The locket was wrapping itself around her neck, causing her to lose oxygen. Her left hand tried to hold onto the sword as she tried to claw the locket with her right, but she was losing air quick.

Harry thrashed in the water in panic. The lack of oxygen causing her to drop the sword and leaving her available to pry the necklace off with both of her hands, but she was weak. Her body was numb from the cold and her panicking had caused her to become lightheaded. Slowly, her vision started to go black and she became too tired to fight the locket. She was dying and there was no one around to save her.

In her last few moments of consciousness, she kept on thinking of the strange words inscribed on her parents graves. Ever since she saw and heard those words, she had become obsessed with them. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about them, almost like they held a certain power. She felt a strange sensation when she had tried to say it in Latin once.

With nothing to lose, she felt compelled to shout into the water with her dying breaths, " _Novissima autem inimica destruetur mors_." The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Her forehead burned where her scar was. It was producing a blinding light. Suddenly, it stopped and mended itself together until the scar had disappeared completely. In its absence, the deathly hallows symbol could be seen in its place before it melted back into her skin.

But Harry had already lost consciousness. She had already felt herself falling into a strange dream when the mark started to burn her skin. She was standing in a pool of blood with Slytherin's locket still adorning her chest as two snakes began to slither over her. One starting at her shoulders and one at her legs. She felt an itch in the back of her mind telling her that this was an omen, and for whatever reason she was meant to see it.

The vision only lasted a few seconds before her world started to go completely black for the second time in that day. She felt herself falling again, but this time she knew she wasn't going into another dream.

All she could hear was three voices whispering in unison, " _fatorum sorte estis._ " You have been chosen by the fates.

* * *

*Author's note

I'm amazed I even wrote this much. I don't have much experience with creative writing. It's been mostly essays for the past few years and the few fiction writing experiences I had, I didn't put the right amount of effort into. I find everything about writing creatively hard. The ideas don't come easy to me. Also, finding words to describe those ideas does not come easy to me. The whole process is a challenge, but I always come back to it in some way. That being said, I'm not sure how long it will take me to release these chapters, but I will try to get through them. I have a tendency to get stuck from rewriting things, but now that I'm finally happy with the first chapter I'll be concentrating on getting out my second. That being said, anyone who's read this before I've nixed the original prologue I had attached to this chapter and rewrote the first half of it.


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